


Cross Moat Cut

by mayachain



Series: Valentines2020 [9]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alive Starks (ASoIaF), Gen, Old Nan knows what's up, Returning Home, Robb Stark is King in the North, Sibling Love, The North (ASOIAF), old magic ex machina, or will be soon enough, post Ned's death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-22
Updated: 2020-07-22
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:27:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25446844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mayachain/pseuds/mayachain
Summary: With his father dead and his sisters' fate in Lannister hands, Robb Stark invokes old magic and Sansa finds her way home.
Series: Valentines2020 [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1627531
Comments: 7
Kudos: 91





	Cross Moat Cut

Robb was staring at the royal summons, his hand was trembling. He felt as if his whole body must be shaking out of his skin, cold, so cold, and much too warm.

His father was dead. His sisters were hostages.

No.

His father was murdered. His sisters held by enemies.

King Joffrey had named Ned Stark a traitor and had executed him. Had not even wielded the sword himself, had not even had that much honour in his bones.

There could be only one response to this.

“Close the Moat,” Robb Stark said.

\- - - 

Far away in King’s Landing, Sansa Stark was walking through the Red Keep in a haze, mind and body numb. She said what they wanted to hear, smiled when she was bid, curtsied, cried, all while feeling as if nothing could ever again be real.

Until she stopped in her tracks and turned as a sound echoed through her mind, reminiscent of the big ironwood door down to the crypts back home closing.

“I thought I heard something,” she whispered when asked what was the matter. Her captors made fun. Her cheeks blushed in shame, but deep down a part of her had awoken once more.

\- - - 

Jon heard it echo through his skull louder than anything. At least he was not the only one: “The Stark has closed the Moat,” the Lord Commander said, blanching.

\- - - 

Arya heard it as her motley group made camp just off the King’s Road. It did nothing to help her immediate situation, might, in fact, make it much more difficult, but she knew what it meant. Father would be avenged. She couldn’t keep from smiling.

\- - - 

It was some days later that Sansa was dragged to the Throne Room. A raven had come from her brother, her captors said, and indeed she saw that Joffrey was holding a letter bearing the Stark seal. As soon as he saw her he began reading it aloud, voice mocking:

“Let it be known in this year 298 after the conquest that the Stark of Winterfell has closed the Moat. Let it be known that this be in response of the - “unlawful” - actions of the faithless king Joffrey Baratheon. Let it be known that the Moat is closed and henceforth shall never be opened again.”

“Ha!” cried Joffrey. “This is the Northern bravery? The Tully’s famed familial loyalty? I execute your father and your brother hides in his hole, like a craven! Ha!”

“Lady Sansa, my condolences that your brother seems to hold you in so little regard,” said the Queen. 

Sansa stood stock still. This wasn’t right, she could not have been abandoned – 

but she hadn’t been.

She let a tear escape and bore Cersei’s false pity and Joffrey’s jeering. How long had that raven needed to fly here from the North? The Moat was closed, no army and no lone knight would come for her.

There must yet be time.

Hours later she found herself in the Godswood. In the tresses of her dress she had everything she had saved that belonged to her and Arya, which wasn’t much at all. She had nothing of her father. Even his bones were beyond her reach now.

Caring little about the state of her clothes she knelt before the tree. It was not a real weirwood tree, she knew; even if the story she had clung to since she had heard the big gate fall shut held any truth to it, her efforts might well fall short because this was a mockery of a heart tree, this far south.

It was not a real heart tree. Yet for hundreds of years people from the North, blood of the First Men, had knelt here and prayed. She could only hope it would be enough.

She could only hope Old Nan’s stories held more truth than Septa Mordane’s songs about maidens and honourable knights.

Sansa pressed both of her palms against the trunk. The Moat is shut, she prayed. The Moat is shut, the way is closed. The way is closed, I am of the North, I am of the North and I wish to go home.

Seven days and seven nights. How long had the raven spent on its flight? The heart tree was not real but this was a Godwood. Please, let me go home, she prayed – 

and then, while kneeling in front of a false heart tree deep within the Red Keep and in full few of a kingsguard and a handmaiden, Sansa Stark disappeared.

\- - - 

Jon felt it as she travelled. He felt the rush as the wood sucked her in and sent her spiralling northwards through the root network. He felt it in his bones.

\- - - 

Arya felt it. She felt the rush move through her whole body and had to fight back stupid, stupid tears.

She had little to no chance to find a godswood and do as her sister had. But Sansa had done it. Arya had Needle, she would make her way somehow. But Sansa – Sansa who could not be as completely stupid as Arya had feared, else she would not have remembered the way and would not even have tried – Sansa would be safe.

Arya imagined the faces of Joffrey and stupid Queen Cersei when they heard. She laughed.

\- - - 

Rickon felt it. He didn’t know what it meant, he was too little, but he had a big rush feeling that he needed to be in the Godswood, so off he went. “Come, Shaggydog!”

\- - - 

Bran felt it. He felt it and the rush of energy made him want to get up for the first time in days. Weeks. 

Father was dead. Mother was missing. Arya – he had felt Arya, for a second there, so she was alive even if she was missing, too.

“Hodor!” he called. “Hodor, take me to the Godswood.”

\- - - 

Robb felt it. He paused mid-speech, confusing those of his father’s – now his – lords that had come to Winterfell and discuss the future with him.

“The Moat was shut, yet they had seven days to reach home,” he recited. Some looks around the table were blank, while others began to brighten in understanding.

“My Lords, let us talk more in the afternoon. Lord Karstark, you have expressed doubt in the ancient tales, Lord Umber, you have wanted to storm the South when I claimed an act that is said to cut off the southward flow of magic as adequate punishment for my lord father’s murder. Come with me now and witness that the might of the North from the old tales holds true. Come witness that my sister Sansa has travelled the roots and come home.”

\- - - 

She landed in a rather undignified heap. It was cold. That was the first thing she realized: There was dirty moss under her cheek, the air was clean, and it was cold.

Then she was rushed by an excited direwolf. Two. Three direwolves.

And thus she was found, laughing: Face dirty, in a dress much too flimsy for late autumn, being licked and snuffled at by her brothers’ companions.

She had felt Jon, far away at the Wall, relieved and full of love as he had felt her. She had felt Arya, still in the Crownlands, hunted, dressed as a boy, hungry, far dirtier than she, nowhere near a godswood that might be reached within the seven days, but alive. Alive.

And her other brothers: Robb, Bran and Rickon: Heralded by their direwolves, drawing ever nearer.

She was home.

.


End file.
